Darkness Falls
by La Fata Morgana
Summary: Legolas rides to his father's lands with word of the growing darkness, and meets an old friend along the way...


===========================================   
Darkness Falls 

as roleplayed by   
Kabanas and Morgana   
=========================================== 

  
  
  


**Disclaimer: **Legolas belongs to Mistah Tolkien, but I'm sure if he could read how well 'Las is being written by Kris, he'd have no problem with it. Tinuviel belongs to me, don't touch her. She'll bite. Once again - realistic liberties have been taken with the timeline.   
  


**Tinuviel** There was something to be said for the darkness that drugged the sanctity of Mirkwood. The rain was afraid to fall there. That that didn't stop the sky from being dark as night and rumbling ominously with thunder. The rain had let up just East of Rivendell, and Tinuviel was thankful for it. She didn't fancy another night in the drenched woods. She was in high spirits, though. She was within hours of home. 

**Tinuviel** Laurelhach could probably smell the green glades that were still untainted by the shadows in the land. Thankfully her home of Durhisie was close enough to King Thranduril's territory that the evil hadn't pervaded there yet. Nudging the chestnut stallion to a canter, her blonde hair flagging behind her, Lady Tinuviel rides past the border of Thranduril's land and heads for home. 

**Legolas** There was a mounted rider speeding through the open plains outside of Durhisie. The drumming of his mount's hooves thundered past cart-beaten trails, outrunning the moonshine lying low over the sunken horizon. Though not a horseman by skill, his riding was speedily maintained and shot with haste. 

**Legolas** His archer uniform was hidden beneath a coarse peasant's cloak, its cowl violently flapping in the cold breeze away from his fine feautures. here were lights and smoke in the very remote distance--the makings of civilization. He trusted the stallion's instincts to ride itself to warmth and shelter. Argonauts at heart, the two of them were accustomed to these realms. Staying to the plains where the moon could guide them, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood was soon closing in on friendlier territory. A sanctuary for elves riding alone at night. 

**Tinuviel** , galloping across the green hills towards her home, perks up a bit. She wasn't the only one riding for the hall of Lord Elenglin. The rider was within a mile of where Tinuviel rode. She could hear the drumming of the hooves not below her. Sea-blue eyes narrow... orc and Uruk-hai did not ride. It must be man or Elf. Likely an Elf. Few men knew of her father's hall in the Durhisie plains. She whispers for Laurelhach to run on. 

**Tinuviel** The plains speed past below her. She had fondly underestimated the pace of Rohirrim stallions when there were new mares in the paddocks. Soon the guilded lights and pale roofs of Hithlad are visible in the storm-laden twilight. She felt Laurelhach pick up his pace even more. Then the stables came into view, and the stallion's call was answered by a chorus of gleaming horses in the darkness. 

**Tinuviel** Tinuviel pulls up the horse only inside the courtyard, surrounded by willows and rowan trees and hung lamps. Speaking a word of gratitude to her mount, a groom from the stables rushes forward to collect the barely-winded stud. Instead of heading inside, though, Tinuviel remains out in the courtyard, her keen gaze fixed down the emerald green ride up to the hall. She was keen to know who it was that was riding near here. 

**Legolas** The archer wildly started at the sound of company hooves ringing out from somewhere within the surrounding terrace of Mirkwood's poplar forest. He was alone on this road, after all, and for that he had to be on his best guard. Frowning against the biting wind, he turned his gaze behind him, one shoulder at a time, trying to distinguish the fellow rider's source. 

**Legolas** By sound alone, he determined his neighbor's course. It was the city, and the distant rider was picking up speed towards the gates. Legolas subtly pressed his mount to bank right towards a new direction, chasing after. There was a fleeting worry in his heart that his progress was being tracked, so the sooner he was inside the safety of the city, the better. 

**Legolas** Even a prince has his reserves about dangers in the night. Slowing his caramel stallion to a more civil pace, he bore his princely countenance tightly and held up a pale hand to the entrance guards. His Quenya was commanding and easily recognizeable; the hallowed gates shut tight behind him. The frown that pervaded his face earlier had not left, even after he slid from his saddle in fluid haste. 

**Legolas** spun slowly on his heels, ignoring the hands that lead his horse away into the stables. The bow holstered to the back of the saddle was promptly swept away and placed in his hand. He eyed every figure carefully, looking for the rider that recently shared the road with him. Trouble was, he had no idea who he was looking for. Many pairs of eyes followed his calculating gaze in the darkness with strong curiosity. Their lamps lit his face in plain view. They, too, wanted to know who it was the stranger was looking for. 

**Tinuviel** couldn't help a grin when the Prince of Mirkwood swept into the city's gates. And to think, she'd been worried about the rider sharing the road with her. There was no threatening figure, but her childhood friend. Her father was Thranduril's closest councellor, and often she and Legolas had sat in Thranduril's court, bored witless with the dull matters of policy and state. 

**Tinuviel** paces forward with her confident, long-legged stride, clad in the Sidran brown and green uniform of a messenger rider. "What peasant speaks so loftily to the guards of this city!" Tinuviel calls in the speech of High Elves, still covered in the shadow of an archaic willow tree. She was quite comfortable being impertinant to him. It was all in friendly jest. 

**Legolas **The archer prince carefully put up his guard, his frown that of stubborn pride. "I am Legolas," he answered blankly, still unable to make out the figure in the darkness, "royal Son of Thranduril, and improperly attired for politic's liking." Something about that voice sparked his memory... 

**Legolas** "I ride from Rivendell--" he pressed onward, his steps falling forward along with him. Legolas' voice failed him as soon as the orange lamps revealed the figure's face. Ah, cruel woman! "Tinuviel, bless you!" came the prince's surprised exclamation next. His smile was evident. He hardly recognized her. He last saw her nearly three full scores ago, and even then, they had yet grown into the mature elves they were now. 

**Legolas** Tinuviel looked nothing like her girlhood self at all. To make up for it, neither did Legolas look like his boyhood self. He was a striking specimen of his race--all sharp features, fine hair, and the decency to outmatch his royal upbringing. "I scarcely recognized that scathing wit of yours!" The commonfolk around him fell to their business as Legolas swooped his old friend in a suffocating hug. 

**Tinuviel** returns the hug just as fiercly, laughing. She leans back and studies her old friend incredulously. "Who else would make such a cruel jab at your pride? Ai! It's been so long! And you look so different!" Holding him at arms length, she loosens her grip in favor of another hug. "Come, come inside! We have years to catch up on, and a storm brews on the horizon." Beaming, she adds, "And a warm drink!" 

**Legolas** The metamorphosis on Legolas' face was remarkable. Here stood a warm and jovial elf when, only moments before, the prince's countenance was heavy with anxiety. To anyone who knew him, this was Legolas at his friendliest. It had been so long since he recognized a familiar face that Tinuviel's arrival was nothing short of respite. He followed her through lamps and corners to a brightly-lit tavern. 

**Legolas** says, "No one but the -sweetest- lady I know," Legolas teased dryly. He knew she still hated to have her latent kindness pointed out. The reason Legolas and Tinuviel had become so close in the first place was their shared opinion on brutal honesty. Their friendship was based on mockery, though it was soon made obvious during their childhood that he lacked Tinuviel's forwardness just a notch. And so it was that Legolas became the blunt of her many jokes. He bore them all lightly. 

**Legolas** stooped upon an empty table, laying his armaments on the table about him. He waved away her offer. "A warm meal would be more welcomed. I am on duty." For some odd reason, Legolas was expecting a ridicule any minute. Had he changed that much? He leaned back in his ornately carved chair and eyed her appreciately. "I should have known it was you riding past. You always were one for a challenge." 

**Tinuviel** Elves were such the paradoxal race. On one hand they bore heavily the sorrows of the world, and on the other, were sprightlier than the merriest Hobbit. Settling down in the chair across the small table, she scoffs at the mention of her kind nature. "I am -not- sweet, 'Las. If I were, I would be sitting demurely in your father's court, married, and not challenging your feeble riding skills in the face of a twilight thunderstorm." 

**Tinuviel** grins, shoving back her lengths of silver-blonde hair and leaning forwards on the worn wood. The back of her hand came to her lips to stifle her snicker at the mention of 'on duty'. "As you wish, a hot meal then. And what duty is it that keeps you from a good glass of Durhisie mull?" A mischevious glint flitted across her gorgeous blue eyes. 

**Legolas** "Twilight -and- thunder?" he repeated innocently. Innocent as Pippin. "And if it were day, it would be wind -and- rain? Frightening... Not unlike my father's temper..." The hostess of a tavern leaned between them and slipped a small lamp on their table. They were exposed anew. All of sudden, they could clearly make out each other's faces, and Legolas saw that the youthful glow behind Tinuviel's eyes had not left her. 

**Legolas** While she broke her composure, Legolas eyed her with calm amusement. Very calm indeed. He scarcely moved at all. "I have news for your father," he answered, studying her carefully. "I come bearing it from Lord Elrond. It concerns..." Legolas had to chuckle away the lie forming inside his head. Instead he lowered his voice and steadily eyed her so the truth was made plain as day. 

**Legolas** "It concerns the presence of a dark power brewing in the south. And the army he's gathered for himself." He silenced himself as the hostess arrived bearing his lentil soup. The prince cleverly hid his next words behind a spoonful of the warm broth, his eyes casually falling to the tabletop in front of him. "Our childhood villain. You know whom I speak of." 

**Tinuviel** So nothing had changed... he would still trust her with secrets. She had oft been a solemn listener to the prince. A frown creased her pretty brow at the undervoiced comment, eyes widening. "This I know, my friend. I have just returned from Rivendell with word to the Lord Elrond of the dark patrollers amidst our home. Apparently his land was already assailed by the same." 

**Tinuviel** "I had a meeting with some rather unfriendly Orcs on the road to Imladris, as well as the bastard creations of Saruman." At his raised brow, she nods. "Yes, yes... Orondil was at Rivendell as well, and had spoken with Elrond's sons. He filled my mind with all the treacheries of the world. Ai, how tempting it is to proceed to the Havens." 

**Legolas** She had known of the trouble brewing in Mordor already? The archer leaned forward in his seat, animated to new excitement. He shared her frown deeply. "I am no less blind to Saruman's evil. He has turned from all reason and is amassing an army at Isengard. Lord Elrond fears the worst for Elven kind." 

**Legolas** "We have not the manpower at this time to raise proper defenses should the South advance northward. It would mean a devastating loss for Mirkwood. This is why I am here, Viel... Lord Elrond could not have trusted his grave pleas in the care of any Elven emissary. I am to meet with Hithlad's elders to invite their opinions on this matter--and their loyalty. For that matter, my time here is short. My course is set back to Rivendell before dawn breaks this coming morning." For a long while, the broth sat upon Legolas' table, neglected in exchange for his friend's attention. 

**Tinuviel** "My father's alleigance is yours, you know that," Tinuviel answers in an offhanded manner as if he was being absurd to even doubt it. Her eyes widen again, and she leans forward, clutching her friends hand. "Let me come with you, 'Las! Please... I'll come as a representative of Durhisie." Her gaze begged him to agree. 

**Legolas** This was a night to reclaim their past, it seems. He was reverting back to his boyish way of withdrawing. Despite his disciplined heart and his mature countenance both, Legolas put in a helpless sigh, something akin to groan. "And what will you hope to accomplish, my lady, eavesdropping on and terrorizing the council besides?" 

**Legolas** The prince tried his best not to shrink away from her touch. Someone held his hands like this a few days ago, and Tinuviel's melancholy look reminded him too much of that woman for Legolas' liking. "It is not for me to say, Viel..." His desperate look begged her not to do this to him. He was loyal to his friends, surely she knew that. But in his eyes, remaining dutiful was also on an equal plain to that important responsibility. 

**Tinuviel **frowns, settling back in her chair. He was right. She wouldn't admit it. Casting her gaze up to meet his, though, she wondered if after this darkness they would ever have the leisure to sit about and discuss idle things like they had. And then her gaze hit the table and she felt ashamed for having asked him that. "I'm sorry, I was being selfish. But Earendil, it's been so long, I'm rarely home anymore, riding here and there." 

**Tinuviel** smiles kindly, patting his hand. "Nevermind that for now. Tell me how you've been over these long years?" Pressing their current plights to the back of her mind, she grins. "Has your father found you a lovely wife yet?" She loved nothing more than picking away at his notion that he'd be a lone archer riding the lands all his life. "Or perhaps you love your bow more than anything..." 

**Legolas** replied in kind by tossing her an unkind look. "You have a way with words, Tinuviel. Namely slicing my head open with them." His amusement, however, was clearly hidden beneath that handsome surface. As hard as he fought the sadness in his heart, however, a certain woman kept coming to Legolas' mind. Yes, he had met someone. Laurelome had ridden with him here to Hithlad, carried in his thoughts always. 

**Legolas** If she paid attention, Viel might have even correctly infered the archer's hesitation to be confirmation of this news... "The esteemed Lord Thranduril already has affairs of the -state- to glower over, dear lady... That is more important to him than courting his sons off to be the victims of ladies at court." Grimly, he smiled. "Without his permission, of course, I have avoided marriage." 

**Legolas** resumed to quietly eating his soup. Nothing was awry. Nothing at all. Resting an elbow atop his disposed leather quiver of arrows, the roguish Sidran elf preyed his smug smile towards her. "And you, Nightingale?" He hadn't failed to remember her nickname. "Have none of these fine gentlemen won your heart?" 

**Legolas** He nodded innocently towards the male patrons of the bar. A hint of nobility, a shot of decency, but overall, not such a fine mix as one would hope. "You would be a glowing sight in the white robes of matrimony..." He mentally took note of her flinch. 

**Tinuviel** It was her own fault that she had failed to recall that if he made some disparaging comment about himself, it would likely be followed with one equally taunting to her, and so she laughed freely at him for his comments about avoiding marriage. Leaning back in her chair, she chuckles, lifting her wine to sip delicately at it. And speaking of paying enough attention, she was, and his pause didn't escape her. He was hiding something. 

**Tinuviel** She'd always made it her mission to weasle things like that out of him, and she generally succeeded, for that matter. But her soon-to-be-realized efforts are cut short at the mention of her own status, which remained firmly unwedded. Pointing a finger at him, eyes narrowed, she shakes her head, a silent reminder that such comments would not be tolerated. "Men hate my disposition and I'm that much the happier for it." 

**Tinuviel** She had to smile at the use of her old nickname, used by none but her brother now. "So. Who is she? Certainly not someone at court, I would know of that. Perhaps some lady of Rivendell? Hmm?" Leaning forward, she was like an irritating younger sister, grinning slyly. 

**Legolas** instantly puts on act. His shrug was a weak effort, insulting to those of this intelligent race. "I know not whom you speak of?" he replied, though his eyes darted about like fleeting butterflies. "Believe my words, Viel, if I had met someone, I would be the -last- to know about it." Clamping down on his teeth, the jaw muscles on the archer's face tightened with some effort. 

**Tinuviel** purses her lips, leaning even further forward. "You obviously -are-. Now tell me or I shall have the cook continually slip heavy spirits into your broth until you let it slip anyhow." She was cunning, this one, and when she had it in her mind that she wanted to know who it was, she wouldn't let go. Some animals smelled fear... she could sense a cover-up. 

**Legolas **'s eyes slipped to a close, his head shaking in discontent. It was like their court games of past ages, only with dire consequences. Burning his gaze upon her, Legolas calmly set aside his lentil soup and sat very still. It was the only way he knew how to lose. With dignity. "I wish I knew..." 

**Legolas** There was an upwelling of sadness that surfaced unexpectedly and caused him to frown. Memories of that morning in Rivendell floated by, and was lost. "She was as much a stranger to Elrond's city as I. A harper, a beautiful creature..." Uncomfortably, the prince shifted in his seat and lazily retreated, arms uncharacteristically hanging in a sluggish manner by his sides. 

**Legolas** He smiled a little at Tinuviel. There was determination in his eyes that was forced on his part. He rarely allowed himself to be caught up in emotions. "I have avoided marriage, though surely it is love that has been the one avoiding me until now. One of the many luxuries I have denied myself, I suppose." He then added, quickly, "But what are these things to me? I am a man on duty." 

**Tinuviel** Tinuviel had decided that matrimony would only hinder her independence, but that didn't mean she was free of the manner in which Elves fell prey to beautiful things, and his sadness was beautiful in it's own morose way. "Oh, tell me her name... and where does she live then, if not in Rivendell? 

**Legolas** Staring discontently at Tinuviel, Legolas just now realized, was going to get him nowhere. No matter how long he tried to stand his guard. "Laurelome." And after a lengthy moment or two: "Of Lorien." An even longer minute passed, and finally Legolas let his reserves go. The smile on his face spread from ear to ear. He was all perfect teeth and sunshine. 

**Tinuviel** "Laurelome." Tinuviel repeats, testing the name. Nodding her approval, she regards her old friend with a smug smile - she'd gotten the information out of him, and was pleased with the result. Her grin only grew as his appeared and she settled forward. "And how did you meet?" She wouldn't suffer a lack of details either. "I'm sure you astounded her with your impeccable social graces." 

**Legolas** Oh dear... Was he ever going to hear the end of it? "Actually, I nearly fell from the breakfast hall banister." Rising and collecting his bow and arrow, Legolas offered her his hand. A very clever way to end the subject on that note. "No..." he smiled kindly, fond of the memory that took place so near to tonight. 

**Legolas** "I was searching for the sun. Instead I found her. I have not seen her since." Towards the end of his speech, Legolas failed to explain that it was himself who forbade all contact with Laurelome. How could he dare lead the Lorien maiden on, so close to the Company's departure? 

**Tinuviel** finds herself removed from her seat and wandering with her companion towards the door. She was much too rapt in his story to care. She practically wailed her dissappointment at the end of the story. "But you will, of course? See her again, I mean. Of course you will." Sliding her arm through his, she grins roguishly. "If you don't, I'll think you mad. Who else would put up with your wandering ways?" 

**Legolas** allowed himself to be lead away, for once. Being in Hithlad meant a world of importance for the Sidran prince. This reunion with Tinuviel was the last thing he would enjoy before his council with the elders of this region. Unlike Laurelome, Legolas was hopeful he was going to see much more of Tinuviel in the future. 

**Legolas** For a man who has been stripped clean of his hope, at least she was someone Legolas could look forward to seeing during his return home. The prince leisurely followed her out of the tavern, full of thoughts about the night and of his departure from Rivendell. Just moonlight and Earendil. 

**Legolas** He wondered if Laurelome was watching this very same piece of sky. In one hand, Legolas's bow hung freely, pointed in the direction of the elder's homes. He would be spending much of the evening discussing loyalty and politics, of things that he and Tinuviel never cared for centuries ago. The prince had a smile to match his long stride. "No one but you, my -sweet- woman."   
  
  


============================================   
Well, aren't they just adorable. Feedback! 

~Morgana 


End file.
